His Boys
by Morningstar-Winchester
Summary: John ponders his parenting so far. Set in season one.


John didn't like how quiet the motel room was, yet, at the same time, he welcomed the silence. Because silence meant nobody was hurt, nobody needed saving, he didn't have to kill anything. But silence also meant he was alone with his thoughts, and for John Winchester, that was never a good thing. A soft sigh escaped his lips and he sat back, watching a small puff of fog swirl through the air. Normally he'd be alarmed that he could see his own breath - Usually meant a ghost - But the room was as warded as could be. His boys were safe.

That was always his first thought; His boys. Sam and Dean. The old hunter's gaze softened as his eyes flickered from Sam to Dean, noticing the way they lay in the shared bed. They slept back to back, pressed against each other just slightly. They slept in an almost identical way; It had John grinning slightly to himself. He raised them right.

Okay, maybe he didn't. He'd made mistakes. But who didn't? John tried to do right by them. He tried to teach them all he could. Sure, they never got to throw a football around, or go to soccer or baseball games or whatever it was fathers and sons did together, but they were alive, weren't they? They were alive, and together, and they knew how to defend and protect themselves and each other. That was good. That was _okay._

If John could have chosen it…. They'd have normal lives. They'd have finished school. Had girlfriends, wives, kids, had jobs, just be normal. But normal was something they couldn't have. Not now.

John had been right to raise them into this, though. He didn't want to, Heaven knows he didn't want to. But he'd had no choice. That… That thing that killed Mary, he didn't know whether it would come back for his boys or not. And he wanted to be prepared if it did. He wanted them to be prepared if it did.

And it had! It went after Sam's girlfriend, the same way it went after Mary. John flinched faintly as his gaze shifted to his youngest son, eyebrows pinching together slightly as a rush of pain and guilt went through him. He'd never wanted his son to know what that felt like. To have his entire world crashing down around him.

Then again, John mused, his world had crashed and burned long before that.

John hated this. He really, truly did. He never asked to be brought into this - this whatever it was. This life. And he certainly never asked for his boys to be brought into it, either. How had their lives been ripped to pieces so fast, right in front of his eyes? How could he have let it happen? But how could he have stopped it?

He couldn't have. That thing wanted Mary. That thing wants his boys. Well, they weren't going to get Sam, or Dean. Not without a fight from John Winchester, no sir.

John took a deep breath and sat back, running his fingers through his hair as his gaze darted to the door. He'd thought maybe staying away, he could protect his boys better. Keep them away from that thing. But now he knew, he couldn't. He couldn't protect them. He'd done all he could, he'd taught them all he could, but it wasn't enough. Or, maybe it was. They were alive, weren't they? Maybe they could protect themselves. Each other. Watch out for each other.

Now John's gaze flickered over to his eldest son. Dean…. He had so much responsibility on his shoulders from the time he was four. That was one thing John couldn't stand. Dean didn't deserve that. Didn't deserve to have his mother die, to have his life crumble to bits instantly. To somehow, for some reason, have basically the weight of the world on his shoulders now. To have to take care of Sammy. And, in some cases, have to take care of John, too.

John felt like he'd put too much on the kid. But Dean had turned out okay. John was so… So proud of him. Proud of him, because he kept on fighting. Kept on watching out for Sammy. Kept on being a hero. His son was a hero.

And then what about Sam? Well, Sam had left, yeah. But he was just as much of a hero. He'd been thrown into this before he could even walk. And yet somehow he didn't seem as broken as Dean and John did. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he couldn't remember Mary, couldn't remember the life they'd had. Couldn't remember the life he could have had….

But if that was the case, Jessica's death would have torn him to pieces. But Sam still had that spark in his eyes. Dean did, too. It was dim, but there. That spark, that faint spark that said they were ready and willing to fight. That they had each other and that was all they needed. That they could make it through _this._ That they were heroes.

His boys were _heroes_.

John sighed again, lips twitching upwards into the smallest of smiles. He had to be careful not to show this kind of emotion. He had to be careful, because Dean and Sam had to be careful, if they were going to survive this. He had to make sure his boys knew this wasn't a game. This was something… something big, and dangerous. And they couldn't afford to be weak. Couldn't afford to let emotions stand in the way.

He wanted them to survive. He'd lost his wife and he'd be damned if he was going to lose his sons, too. That wasn't happening. It just wasn't.

John eased himself up off the chair, casting the boys one lingering look as he headed over to his own bed. But they'd be okay. Their love for each other kept them closer and stronger than John could ever have hoped. They'd get through this - Together. Because that's what John had taught them. To stay together. Watch out for each other.

John silently laid down, letting his head fall onto the pillow and rolling over so that his back was to the wall, fasting his boys. His hand slipped up under the pillow, making sure the knife he always had was there. It was. Good.

His eyes narrowed against the darkness and he could see Sam shift a little. Dean did the same, almost instantly, keeping them back to back, still pressed slightly against each other. Protectively. Though John couldn't tell who was protecting who, he had a pretty good guess they were protecting each other.

The hunter chuckled softly to himself, letting his eyes slip shut. He'd made mistakes, he had regrets, and yeah maybe he wasn't the best father in the world. Okay, he definitely wasn't.

But, all things considered…. He'd done an alright job with his boys.


End file.
